Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate Universe.

He almost ran to his quarters, and at last shut the door behind him. It's ok, you're home, it's ok, he kept telling himself. But it wasn't ok. It would never be. Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god! He buried his face into his shaking hands, rocking himself as he tried to cry, to scream, anything to let out the overwhelming guilt, but he couldn't, he simply couldn't. The tears wouldn't come, he was too shocked. He was way beyond crying.

He just sat there, for hours, trying to reconcile with the fact that he had killed thousands of innocent people. He was a murderer. Destroyer of worlds. He was dangerous. His arrogance was dangerous, he knew it. Before, he had never thought of his arrogance as a flaw. It was just the way he was, a harmless character trait that merely compensated for his family's lack of reconnaissance in his abilities, an asset even, that allowed him to believe in himself enough to do extraordinary things. What use was a genius who didn't believe in himself ?

But this time, he had gone too far. And he would probably do it again, years from now, he'd try to put a rabbit out of a hat and would come up with a nuclear bomb instead…

Everybody made mistakes. But what if his next mistake ended up costing the life of everyone in Atlantis ? Sheppard almost died this time, along with him. What if next time it was Carson, or Radek, or Ronon, Teyla, Elisabeth… He just couldn't stand it.

Everyone made mistakes. But not everyone was blowing up entire solar systems. He wished he had never been born. Yes, he had saved Atlantis more than once in the past, but if he was honest with himself, he could see that even without him, they would probably have been ok. Radek was more than capable to avoid Atlantis' annihilation, and with the help of the other scientists, he probably was even more capable than him. Rodney worked alone, he didn't trust anyone even when he clearly should, as this disaster clearly showed. He should have listened. He had thought himself cleverer than Radek, but he had been wrong. So wrong.

If he was really honest with himself, he had to admit Atlantis would be better off if he wasn't here. He thought about going back to Earth, but the idea of living anywhere but here hurt too much.

He panicked again. How would react the others ? He would lose all his friends, he was sure of that. The entire crew of the Deadalus knew he was a murderer, so by the end of the week everyone on Atlantis would as well. An entire world. Destroyed. Because of him. It was too much.

He wondered if Sheppard would ever speak to him again. Probably not. No more going out on off-world missions. And he would never trust himself again either, so his job as head scientist was pretty much over too. His life was over. No friends, no job, and only the overwhelming guilt to keep him company.

I wish my cat was here he thought briefly. But he didn't even deserve the animal's affection, did he ? Hell, he had probably killed lots of cats too, on the planet. Granted, they had never encountered any cats in the Pegasus galaxy so it really was a stupid thought, but with his luck, he'd probably destroyed the only planet in this whole galaxy where there were lots of cats.

He was going crazy. He wanted to stop. Stop feeling, stop thinking. He thought of asking Carson for sleeping pills, but he knew that when he woke up he would still feel the same. Truth was, he wasn't sure he wanted to live anymore.

As soon as that terrible thought crossed his mind, the panic stopped. He felt calm, calmer than he ever had been. Suddenly his mind was clear. It was just like old times, when he thought about a problem and suddenly the solution came to him. That was it. He was going to kill himself like the coward he was, and everything would be ok. No more thoughts, no more loneliness, no more panic. Just… nothing. An eternity of nothing.

Feeling very weird, as if it wasn't really happening, as if he was looking at himself from a distant point, he stood up, took his gun and sat on his bed. It didn't feel right. He put the gun on the bed under the covers, then stood up again. He went to the bathroom, slowly, as if he had no care in the world. He just wanted to be clean. He felt he needed to prepare for his own death, as he would have if he had to go to the burial of a friend. He showered for a long time, washing his hair as well, shaved. Then he opened his dresser and took out his nicer outfit. Black seemed appropriate, so he put on a black shirt and pants.

He put on some appropriate music, and sang along with the singer, while cleaning up his room. He wanted everything to be perfect.

I hurt myself today

To see if I still feel

I focus on the pain

The only thing that's real

At last, he sat down on his bed. He vaguely wondered if he should leave a note explaining his suicide, but honestly couldn't think of what it would say.

What have I become

My sweetest friend

Everyone I know goes away in the end

Instead, he pulled out the gun from under the covers and pointed it at his chest (his brain too valuable to waste) and without hesitating, he pulled the trigger.

And you could have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let you down

I will make you hurt

disclaimer: the song is Johnny Cash's "Hurt"

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